


Pluviophile

by Duender



Series: Who needs magic when I have you? [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cute Ending, Dancing in the Rain, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Gen, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, M/M, Rain, Romance, same age au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26437957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duender/pseuds/Duender
Summary: Noun.pluviophile(plural pluviophiles)(neologism)One who loves rain.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: Who needs magic when I have you? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924972
Comments: 19
Kudos: 155





	Pluviophile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hypno_sis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypno_sis/gifts).



> For my amazing sister, hope you like this little piece!

The skies were a dark grey, dangerous yet beautiful, much like the man before him.

“Tom,” Harry sing-songed. 

Said man sighed as he held the umbrella firmly over his head. “I told you not to go out today, but did you listen? No!”

Harry grinned at his lover’s disgruntled expression and stepped out from under the safety of the building’s porch and into Tom’s arms. “I knew you would come for me anyways.”

Tom didn’t bother replying, simply wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged Harry into his side, umbrella firmly in the other hand and over his head. He hated getting wet when he was not in the shower.

Harry stood on his tippy toes and pressed a kiss on Tom’s jaw. “Thank you for coming to get me,” he whispered, before he pulled him along. “Let’s get home, and I’ll make you some hot chocolate!”

Their walk was mostly silent, save for the rain falling around them and cocooning them from all the other sounds of the city. Harry took in a deep breath, and a soft smile graced his face as he smelt the musty earth and the wet leaves. He had never been gladder for the fact that they didn’t live in the middle of the city. The buildings had thinned out, though the smooth tar roads remained, lined with tall trees and the occasional block of houses and shops.

Tom’s grumbling had ceased the minute they had begun walking back home, and Harry snuggled into his hold as the clouds continued to weep around them. He could feel a faint mist of water against his cheeks, especially as Tom was much taller and had to hold the umbrella nearly a foot away from the top of Harry’s head. 

The green-eyed raven didn’t mind one bit. He loved the rain. Rain meant that the Dursleys were too busy watching the news forecast to lock him into his cupboard. It meant that he had to make hot tea and snacks for his ‘family’ and could stay in the kitchen, where it was warm and smelled like the delicious cakes he baked once a week for dear Duddiekins. Rain was sitting together with Ron and the rest of his dormmates at Hogwarts, playing Exploding Snap and eating up their Hogsmeade shopping.

Rain meant being able to jump in every puddle he could find, without a care in the world. It was pleasant afternoons spent in the library with Hermione, because it was too wet to play Quidditch. Rains were spending time in with the rest of the Weasleys at the Burrow, all of them in a tight but cosy fit in the living room, laughing together. Rain meant home, rain meant comfort and warmth. 

Harry knew, however, that Tom hated the rain. Being locked out of the orphanage during thunderstorms, being forced to stay in the cold and dark all by himself, Tom despised the cold and wet. Rain to him meant his books being thrown out of the window and into the wed slushy mud, unsalvageable when he was young because he couldn’t control his magic well enough. Rain in the Slytherin dorms meant a dark, dreary view of an already Black Lake.

But Harry loved the rain because rain meant cuddling up with Tom under a blanket, watching a movie or reading a book together. It was spending time in the kitchen, Tom criticizing everything he could find in the newspaper while Harry made dinner. 

Rain was warmth and darkness. It was utter loneliness and a new found family. But most importantly, rain was love. 

Harry stepped away from Tom.

“Harry-?”

He jumped into the closest puddle he could find, and a delighted giggle left him as he created a big splash.

“Harry, you’re going to make yourself sick!” He turned around to see Tom reaching for him, blue eyes concerned.

He took another step back. Then another. And another. And then he was running in the rain.

“Harry!”

He turned around again, Tom farther away from him this time.

He looked ethereal, the gloomy skies doing nothing to dull his brilliant eyes and beautiful face. Harry smiled as he saw pink lips twitch up.

“Come on, slowpoke!” he yelled, as he jumped into another puddle, not caring one bit as his jeans got completely soaked from knee-down. The rain fell harder, and Harry tilted his head backward, letting it wash over his face and not caring that he was slowly getting drenched.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Tom called as he continued to walk at a sedated pace, content to watch his little lover enjoy himself.

“Excuse you,” Harry said, mock-offended. “I do  _ not!” _

“You’re dancing in the rain with nothing to protect you, what do you expect, love?”

A shiver went up Harry’s spine, one that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold or the wet. He smiled wider, unknowingly making Tom’s breath hitch as he stared into vibrant emerald eyes that somehow seemed to shine brighter.

“Who needs sunshine when I can dance in the rain?”

_ Who needs sunshine when they can stare at your face?  _ Tom contentedly drank in the sight of his little songbird as he hopped from puddle to puddle without a care in the world.

Soon, they had neared the little two storey house they had begun to call home. 

“Home, love,” Tom called when it appeared as if Harry would dance straight past their gate.

Harry paused in his jumping to take in his surroundings, a sheepish grin overtaking his face when he realized they had reached. He raced up to their front door and stood their, rocking on his heels, as Tom fished out a key from his pocket.

_ I was already home when I was in your arms. _

“I thought the whole point of me fetching you was so you didn’t get drenched in the rain,” Tom said, laughter evident in his voice as he pushed open the door.

“The whole point was so I could have some company,” Harry corrected as he hurried inside the moment the wooden door swung open, heading straight for the bathroom.

“I’m going to take a hot shower,” he called from the stairs.

When he got back, the mug of hot chocolate that he was supposed to make for Tom was waiting for him on the coffee table.

He smiled as he picked it up and joined Tom on the sofa, snuggling into his side as the blue-eyed man picked up the television remote and started the movie he had already set up for them.

  
  


**___________________________**

  
  


Tom Riddle woke up to the sound of a tiny sneeze.

He glanced down. “Harry…?”

Another sneeze answered him. He sighed. “I told you the rain would make you sick, love.”

Harry grumbled. “But it was  _ rain.”  _

Tom was well aware of his lover’s obsession with the rain. He glanced at the clock on the side table - it was just three in the morning. He pulled Harry tighter against him, and the soft sigh and answering hug he got somehow made up for the fact that he would have to spend his Sunday looking after a sick Harry again.

He awoke again to the alarm, and Harry limp over him. Gently rolling Harry onto his back, he climbed out of bed and stretched. 

“You’re lucky it’s a Sunday,” he informed the imp, but Harry had buried himself back into the covers.

With a sigh, Tom pulled on the first robe he found and dragged himself to the kitchen. As he went through the familiar motions of making coffee, he glanced outside the window. It was still drizzling. The forest he could see from the kitchen window looked lively, and the flowers in Harry’s little flowerbed were vibrant.

Tom used to hate the rain; he’d never had any reason to like it, after all. 

His thoughts went back to his partner, black hair flat against his head (a momentous occurrence) and vibrant emerald eyes much brighter than the evergreens, plump pink lips in a wide smile. He closed his eyes as Harry’s happy giggles filled his ears again.

Maybe, just maybe, the rain wasn’t so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on [Tumblr!](https://duender-writes.tumblr.com/)


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